An Invitation
by Masquerading as Quality
Summary: The Christmas Eve Royal Ball is approaching, and Princess Aurora is not looking forward to the latest in a long line of exceedingly dull attempts to marry her off. Desperate for a bit of excitement, she extends an invitation to the wicked fairy Maleficent. "Well...that's very nice of you, dearie," Fauna tells her. "But I don't think she'll come." [AU, Femmeslash, One-shot.]


**A/N:** Merry Day-after-Christmas! As usual, I have no excuse for what follows—ha! AU, shameless fluff, light-hearted, slightly ridiculous fun. Disclaimer: I've been writing this almost nonstop since, like...30 hours ago. Some wine might have been involved.

* * *

Her first instinct was to have a hearty laugh and toss the offending object into the fire. But her first laugh was so hearty and so fulfilling that she had a second. And a third. Eventually, she decided that it was far too amusing to be rid of just yet. She propped it up on the right armrest of her throne and glanced at it every few minutes or so, and after several days, it had only grown more amusing.

_The Princess Aurora of the Kingdom of the Dawn_  
_formally requests Your presence at the coming_  
_Royal Ball_  
_this Christmas Eve, in celebration of the winter holidays._

Maleficent laughed again. It was absurd. She was amused only because she imagined the princess meant the invitation entirely genuinely. Though Maleficent had never personally met the princess, hearsay indicated that she possessed a kind-heartedness that rendered her almost simple in her gullibility. The king and queen kept her shut away more often than not, and allowed her to socialize only at formal gatherings. Thus, it seemed very likely that Aurora was not mocking Maleficent. The invitation was probably not even an empty gesture. She honestly intended to invite her.

As though in answer to her thoughts, Maleficent heard a knock upon her door. This was highly unusual. Maleficent's home lay atop a treacherous mountain for a reason: she did not like people, and she wished to discourage their interference in her affairs by whatever means necessary. A visitor meant a very determined person, indeed, particularly at this time of year—and for what purpose?

Maleficent opened her door and looked down to find the princess, herself, shivering despite her heavy cloak, gloved hands wrung together in obvious nervousness. Maleficent had never seen her in such close proximity. She was perhaps even more beautiful than she was said to be.

"Your Highness," said Maleficent. She afforded the princess a small curtsey and a bow of her head, but she did not avert her eyes even for an instant. "To what do I owe the pleasure of a personal visit?"

The princess curtseyed deeply in response, and her long blonde curls cascaded over her shoulders as she bowed her head low. "Your Excellency, I, ah..." she swallowed audibly. "I only wanted to make sure you got my invitation. That's all."

Maleficent chuckled coolly and glanced over the princess's head at the steep terrain she had traversed, allowed a moment of silence for the whistle of the icy winds. "That's all?" she echoed. "Do you take me for a fool?"

Aurora's eyes widened in utter horror. "Oh no! No, not at all! Please, you mustn't think that! It's only..."

Maleficent's amusement was gradually becoming genuine. "It's only?"

"Well, the good fairies, you know, they're like...like very dear aunts to me, and they've been laughing at me ceaselessly since I insisted on sending you the invitation, because they think you won't come..."

This piqued Maleficent's interest immediately. The prospect of causing trouble for the three good fairies who served as counselors to King Stefan was always a welcome one as far as Maleficent was concerned. They treated Maleficent like dirt, like the scum of the earth, despite the fact that she could wring their necks with her bare hands if she were of a mind.

"And you thought I would?" she quirked one eyebrow.

"Well, rather..." The princess averted her eyes. "I hoped you might consider it?" She looked up with wide violet-blue eyes that shone with such genuine hopefulness that Maleficent frowned instinctively in response.

Who in her right mind would desire Maleficent's presence? Maleficent received invitations only to large events, to which everyone in the surrounding kingdoms was invited, and only as a compulsory gesture. The king and queen did not wish to anger Maleficent by dealing her a political slight, but neither did they want her to show up. She was a dark fairy, and therefore held dominion over all things evil and chaotic. She tended to bring these things with her wherever she went even without fully intending to. The kindest, the most merciful thing Maleficent could do was to keep her distance. She didn't particularly dislike the king and queen of the Kingdom of the Dawn, therefore she did not trouble them.

Did Princess Aurora not realize this? She must be old enough to know. There were rumours that the princess continued to be unnecessarily choosy on the matter of marriage despite her advanced age (which was something like eighteen or nineteen—Maleficent did not keep track). Certainly this holiday ball would feature a parade of eligible gentlemen from far and wide who would vie for the beautiful princess's hand.

No, she must know on some level why the good fairies laughed at her. More likely, as the rumours stated and the glimmer in her eyes implied, Princess Aurora was simply too genuinely convinced of the innate goodness in all things to realize that there was no innate goodness in Maleficent. There was something oddly touching about that. Perhaps the princess was a fool to think it, but no one had ever believed anything good of Maleficent before, fool or not.

"I shall spare you the trouble, Your Highness," Maleficent replied at last. "If you are wise, you shall thank me for my restraint." She turned to reenter her castle, but she felt a small tug on her sleeve. Of course she could have gone on in spite of it, but her surprise at the gall of such a gesture drove her to whirl back around to glare down upon the offending little hands.

Aurora jumped back in surprise, but there remained in her lovely violet eyes a spark of determination. "Please?" she asked again. "I would owe you a tremendous favour."

Maleficent's lip curled. What could Aurora possibly have to offer her? "No," she replied flatly, and made to turn away once more.

"The invitation stands," said Aurora, "If you change your mind."

Maleficent slammed the door in her face.

* * *

The following afternoon, Maleficent received three more visitors, each more unwelcome than the last. When she set eyes upon them standing at her doorstep, she very nearly closed the door as quickly as she had opened it.

"What did you do?" As always, Flora spoke first. The question was heavy with accusation.

"I haven't the faintest idea what you mean," Maleficent replied haughtily, though she was admittedly deeply pleased by the prospect of having angered the three good fairies without even lifting a finger.

"The royal ball, of course!" Flora rolled her eyes.

"You don't actually intend to go, do you?" Merryweather followed. Fauna, the middle sister, stood timidly a step behind Flora and Merryweather, looking very much like she'd prefer to be elsewhere.

"With all due respect, ladies, I can think of nothing I would enjoy less," Maleficent replied crisply, but as of this meeting, that was not entirely true. Hadn't they but yesterday mocked the princess for even inviting Maleficent? What had caused them to change their tune so drastically? "Yet it seems to me that you have some reason to believe otherwise, else why would you have made such a difficult journey?"

"You honestly expect us to believe that you had no hand in the princess coming here?" Flora asked her with a huff.

Ah. Maleficent hadn't thought about it very much yesterday, but the rumour was that the princess wasn't meant to leave the castle very much at all, particularly not unescorted. Had she stolen away for the sole purpose of extending a personal invitation? How very curious.

"Until yesterday, I had never made the Princess Aurora's acquaintance," she replied. "Why would I have gone to the trouble of steering her all the way here?" she gestured to the treacherous mountains that surrounded her home. "Putting aside my utter disinterest, there are much more expedient ways of receiving an introduction."

"Yes, yes, and much less troublesome!" Flora replied crisply.

"Why do you want to cause the kingdom trouble all of a sudden?" Merryweather chimed in.

"Can't you be contented with your lightning storms and early frosts—"

"And your castle up here where no one bothers you..."

"—the fear you strike into the hearts of everyone in the kingdom just by existing—"

"...nobody bothers you, why do you want to bother—"

"Mistress Fauna?" Maleficent cut them off quietly. She struggled to keep her expression neutral, but a devilish smirk began to play at her lips as she turned the full force of her attention upon the silent, shivering little fairy. "Haven't you anything to say to me?"

Fauna looked as though she might faint. Instead, she clasped together her trembling hands and swallowed audibly, and she spoke directly to the ground. "You'll have to f-forgive the princess, Mistress Maleficent," she managed at last. "She's very kind, you know. She doesn't...doesn't understand..." Fauna looked up. "I can't see why you'd really want to go to the ball, if not to cause trouble. Can't you spare the princess that? She was only being nice."

For Maleficent to wonder why anyone would desire her presence was one thing. For Fauna, whom Maleficent could crush under her boot if she were of a mind, to so boldly imply it aloud was quite another.

Maleficent's lip curled and her brow furrowed. "Well," she sneered. "As I never had any intention of attending your precious festivities, you may all rest in peace. Good day."

Just for that—just because absolutely no one would want her there—Maleficent would go. The Princess Aurora would get her wish, after all, and Maleficent would inspect her reasons for such a vehement invitation, if indeed she was _only being nice_. And those three good fairies would get what was coming to them, one way or another.

* * *

Aurora prepared for the royal ball in a decidedly dejected state of mind. She'd been silly, perhaps even foolish to think that she could make this ball any different from all of the others. The moment the three good fairies had finished half-scolding, half-consoling her for her reckless and unsuccessful attempt to incite the attendance of the land's resident evil fairy Maleficent, they had launched into the obviously far more important details of the eligible gentlemen who would be in attendance this evening.

There was Gerard, from the Western Woodlands, Phillip, from the North, Louis or Lowell or something from the Sea Kingdom, and wouldn't Aurora love to visit the Sea Kingdom sometime?, and after that, she began to lose track of the names. Twenty or more of them, all coming in hopes that Aurora would take a liking to them. But how could Aurora take a liking to any of them when she knew what that would mean? One couldn't just take an idle liking in a prince or a duke or what have you.

A liking meant there would be a courtship. Because of Aurora's "advanced age", the courtship would be as brief as humanly possible. If Aurora took a liking to someone, she'd be expected to marry within the year. If she were engaged within the month, that would be ever so much better. If she were suddenly overcome by common sense—if she suddenly accepted that she had reached an "advanced age", found one of her perfectly pleasant suitors tolerable enough, and accepted a marriage proposal tonight at the ball—well, wouldn't that be just perfect? A charming fairytale come true.

Aurora didn't want to get married. Not yet, anyway, and particularly not under the circumstances allotted her. Why was everyone so anxious to marry her off? Her parents were still relatively young and in good health, though they had each developed a few more grey hairs than they'd possessed previously, following their trying struggle to pass a law which would enable Aurora to inherit the throne. She was their only child, and they wanted her to be happy.

But even her mother had begun to politely hint that it might be about time for her to find a husband. And why? Why, when there was still so much Aurora did not know, so much she had not seen or done, must she find one more person who would hold dominion over her and tell her what she must not know, see, or do?

Her brilliant plan had come about rather quickly, without enough forethought to allow Aurora to talk herself out of it. One of her servants had come in to help her lace up her dress and she'd been chatting about how quiet Maleficent had been recently. Was she up to something. Oh, she hoped not, because it would be dreadful if Maleficent got it in her head to ruin poor Aurora's wedding—oh, but of course, that won't be for a while yet, dear. No need to worry.

Aurora had asked Fauna (because Fauna was the most likely to agree in any situation) whether she might invite Maleficent to the royal ball.

"Invite...? Oh, dear. Well..." Fauna began to wring her hands nervously. "That's very nice of you, dearie, but I don't think she'll come."

"Why not?" Aurora wondered.

Fauna swallowed audibly, but she considered her answer for a moment. "You know, I don't think she likes parties very much."

Aurora made a face. "Neither do I, but I still have to go."

Fauna chuckled and patted Aurora's hands. "Well, dearie, when you strike fear into the hearts of grown men, I imagine you can do whatever you please."

Fauna's response had been the kindest. Flora had laughed. Merryweather had been livid. They had asked her if she had a death wish. They had asked her if she meant to court disaster. Ultimately, though, they had decided as Fauna had: that Aurora was just being polite, and that of course Maleficent wouldn't come, because she never came.

And maybe, just maybe Aurora had grown desperate enough to become rebellious. Could she help it? She was hardly allowed to leave her room, let alone the palace. She knew the way, for how could one miss that foreboding storm cloud that almost obscured the steep mountains just southwest of the Dawn Kingdom's borders? After supper, when everyone was busy with other matters, Aurora had taken her horse and she'd made a run for it.

Aurora had wanted to invite Maleficent to the party because she was interesting, and this was merely from what she had read and heard. She could easily discern that Maleficent was unlike anyone Aurora knew, unlike anyone she ever met at these royal balls which were turning into thinly-veiled would-be engagement parties for her. In her wildest dreams, Maleficent would have accepted her invitation, and Aurora would have asked her all about what it was like to strike fear into the hearts of grown men and to do whatever she pleased and whether anyone had ever bothered her to marry somebody and whether Maleficent had stricken that person with lightning.

And so there! Maleficent wasn't...well, she wasn't all bad. She was intimidating, certainly. Frightening, even. But the actual content of their conversation hadn't been particularly negative. It had been strange. More than anything else, Maleficent was quiet. Guarded. Stiff and formal and more or less polite, until Aurora had pushed her.

But if she'd believed she'd somehow gotten through to Maleficent, well, then she must really be a fool. The good fairies, and probably the rest of the kingdom, didn't want Maleficent there. What was Aurora but a princess? Her parents had fought with everything they had to afford her a tiny scrap of agency, but that wouldn't last her forever. Who was she to think she might defy everyone?

"There! All done!" Flora cried as she situated Aurora's crown atop her head.

"Thank you, auntie," said Aurora quietly.

"Are you certain about that necklace, dear?" Flora added as she fixed a few stray curls.

Aurora fiddled with the charm on the silver necklace she'd chosen for the evening. It was a dragon, fiery breath ablaze and wings spread in flight. "I'm certain, auntie."

Flora's smile fell. "Is something the matter, child?"

"Oh..." Aurora sighed. "No, nothing. I just need a moment alone before the guests arrive, if you don't mind."

"Of course, my dear, of course!" She was easily placated. "Oh, it's going to be a lovely evening, my princess! You'll see!" Flora tucked a curl behind Aurora's ear, patted her cheek and kissed her forehead, then departed.

Aurora rested her chin in her hand and stared at her reflection in the mirror. She stayed there, unmoving, until Fauna knocked on her door and told her it was time to come down, and which point she took another long moment to swallow her disappointment.

It had been foolish to get her hopes up. Nothing ever changed. Not really.

Aurora met twenty-four eligible gentlemen within the first hour. She didn't remember very many of their names. Phillip of the North was the most assertive among them. He took her hand and led her around the edge of the ballroom, and he told her all about himself and his kingdom, and she didn't really listen. He was handsome and he had a friendly smile, and out of the corner of her eye, Aurora could see her aunts giggling and whispering behind her hands.

Just as Aurora was preparing some flimsy excuse to extract herself from the situation, the trumpet sounded to announce another guest. The herald emerged, tugging nervously at his collar, and unrolled his scroll with shaking hands. "Her Excellency, Mistress M-maleficent...of the Forbidden Mountains."

The entire ballroom full of people gasped. Aurora's heart leapt.

Maleficent entered in a magnificent ballgown of what seemed to be her favoured black with purple accents. She descended the stairs slowly with an expression that all but dared anyone to say anything, walked all the way across the expanse of the ballroom, curtseyed to the king and queen, and then turned her attention upon Aurora.

Aurora took a step forward, breathless. Half-consciously, she shook her hand free of Phillip. When Maleficent came close enough, Aurora offered a deep curtsey, but quickly raised her head again. A part of her feared Maleficent might disappear if she looked away too long.

"Mistress Maleficent," she said. "How good of you to come."

Maleficent regarded her with some unreadable combination of emotions. There was amusement there, certainly, and an intense spark of interest that made Aurora want to shiver under her gaze. "It occurred to me that my presence here would cause a great deal of discomfort," she said, and the corners of her ruby red lips quirked up into a smile which would have been charming if it were not so terrifying. "Such an opportunity was too enticing to ignore."

Aurora's eyebrows knitted, equal parts confusion and fascination.

"Aside from that," Maleficent continued with a small incline of her head, "or more precisely, in light of it, I find it most intriguing that you were so insistent upon inviting me, Your Highness."

"Well!" This was Phillip's voice, and the sound of it startled Aurora. She'd forgotten he was there. Why was he still there? "What a pleasure it is to meet the famous Mistress Maleficent!" he said and extended his hand into the middle of their conversation.

Maleficent eyed it with open disdain. She said nothing.

Aurora glanced from Phillip's hand to his friendly smile and back. "It was a pleasure to meet you, Prince Phillip," she said. The implication was that their meeting had now concluded.

Phillip glanced over at her, then back to Maleficent, then back again, face still amiable, hand still awkwardly extended.

Maleficent raised her eyebrows. She wasn't going to take his hand.

"Right," said Phillip. "Well then." He bowed to them both and retreated.

Aurora watched him go with a subtle frown. "I envy you," she said. "I had to let every last one of them kiss my hand."

"The rumour is that you are exceedingly picky with your suitors," Maleficent replied.

Aurora whirled around to award her a look of contempt, but Maleficent's smirk left her fumbling for a response. She averted her eyes. "Especially considering how old and decrepit I am," she murmured at last.

Maleficent's smile widened, and again her black eyes sparkled with interest. "Certainly, you should feel fortunate to find a man at all."

Strangely, Aurora felt a kind of tightness in her heart. No one dared speak the words aloud—not yet—but she'd heard them whispered. And Maleficent spoke them flippantly, made them a joke. There was something...delightfully liberating about that.

"If you did end up coming," said Aurora with a kind of breathy excitement, "I meant to ask you whether anyone had ever said things like that about you."

Maleficent chuckled and glanced away and back. She was exquisitely beautiful. At first Aurora thought that she was beautiful only when not frightening, but the more she watched Maleficent, the more she realized that the very things that made her frightening also made her beautiful.

"The expectations placed upon princesses and wicked fairies differ ever so slightly," she said at last.

"But you know of them both?" Aurora prodded.

Maleficent quirked one eyebrow. "I know of many things."

"I should like to hear about them all."

"Would you care to take a walk?"

Aurora nodded vigourously. Maleficent offered her arm, and together they strode across the ballroom, eyes mostly still affixed to one another. Aurora was aware now that she must mirror Maleficent's interest multiplied by ten. Her concentration was only somewhat broken when she realized that the ballroom was silent—had remained utterly silent for the duration of their interaction—and that every eye was upon them.

She grasped onto Maleficent's arm a bit tighter. "Everyone is staring."

"Are you truly surprised?"

Perhaps not. This was what she had wanted, after all, if only in her wildest dreams. "How do you ignore it?"

"I don't," Maleficent replied, with a grin that could best be described as wicked. "I relish it."

Aurora asked her every question she could think of, and she listened intently to her responses. What did Maleficent do to pass the time in her castle? Did she practice magic all day? Had she always known magic? What did her title mean, exactly? Was she royal by birth, or respected because of the power she wielded?

"Are you really evil?"

"What sort of a question is that?" But not affronted. Amused, perhaps.

"Well, you're called an evil fairy, but that seems like sort of a heavy designation," Aurora tried to elaborate. "And you're...well, you are very pleasant company. Can you truly be evil by birth?"

Maleficent considered Aurora in silence for a moment. "It depends upon your definition, I imagine," she replied.

It was by far the most intriguing conversation Aurora had ever had. Maleficent never refused to answer a question, never told Aurora not to worry her pretty head about such matters, and when Aurora afforded her the opportunity to ask a question of her own, it was not how can a person be so beautiful or wouldn't you like to visit my kingdom someday.

"Do you imagine you'll avoid marriage forever?"

"For as long as I can," Aurora spoke in the general direction of her shoes.

"What is it you seek, instead?" Maleficent prodded. "Love? Power?"

"Freedom," Aurora replied easily, almost like a breath of fresh air.

Maleficent remained silent, waited for her to say more, and for a moment, Aurora resisted. She'd held back her thoughts for so long—if she started, she'd never stop. But the silence and the feeling of Maleficent's eyes upon her beckoned to her, and the words began to tumble from her lips. "I can't seek anything if I can't even leave my room without a hundred people telling me what to do and where to go...I leave the palace once—once! It's been...it's been years, Maleficent! Since I've gone anywhere alone, and I'll never hear the end of it now!"

She stopped walking, and Maleficent followed suit. "They want me to marry someone now. Right now. The sooner, the better. And what will happen then? Then all my parents' work so that I can inherit the throne will be as useless as everyone wants it to be. They don't want me to be queen. They don't want me to have any power. They want me to...to marry a man and...and learn my place and I won't! I won't!"

Maleficent gazed down at her the way Aurora was certain she looked at Maleficent—with unmistakable fascination. They stood very close—certainly much closer than propriety dictated—but Aurora would not back away. She was breathless and panting, and her heart raced with the rush of speaking her deepest wish aloud.

The moment was shattered abruptly by a strange whirring sound and "Get away from her, you wicked old thing!"

Out of the corner of her eye, Aurora saw..._something_. Maleficent's hand flew up and caught _whatever-it-was_ mid-air, and only then did she turn away from Aurora.

When Aurora looked away from Maleficent, she faced a small army. The three good fairies stood at the front, wands drawn, and what appeared to be every man in attendance now brandished a sword. Without thinking very much about it, she stepped in front of Maleficent and held out her arms, shielding her. "What are you doing?" She directed this question at the good fairies, who each looked as if she had stricken them.

"Aurora—"

"What are _you_ doing, dear?"

"Stand aside, you foolish girl." This was Maleficent's voice. It was cold and harsh, the way it had been when they'd first met, and Aurora hadn't realized until that moment just how much it had softened.

Dumbfounded, she did as she was told. "But why—"

"Is there a problem, my good ladies?" Maleficent asked the fairies sweetly. She was still holding something in her hands...it was not even quite something, yet it was... Was that...magic?

"You said you wouldn't come!"

Maleficent smirked. "Did you take me for a woman of my word?"

"What do you even want here, Maleficent?"

"No one here wants any trouble."

"Can't you just leave before anyone gets hurt?"

"Before anyone gets hurt," Maleficent echoed, and the sudden darkness that weighed upon her resonant voice caused Aurora to shiver. "Now, there's no need for that, is there?" She turned her attention to the _whatever-it-was_ that seemed to glow in her hands.

"Please, Mistress Maleficent." This was from Aurora's mother, Queen Leah. She was a soft-spoken woman, almost timid. Aurora loved her very much, but she didn't want to be anything like her. "Allow Aurora to celebrate her engagement in peace."

Aurora's stomach dropped. "My _what?"_

"It's all been decided, dear," Flora told her. "You're betrothed to Prince Phillip of the North."

"I'm...but...I can't!" She couldn't find the words to express exactly how much she couldn't. It was..._oh!_ It was infuriating! It was disheartening and infuriating and it was hopeless! Just when Aurora thought she had done something, made some change or impact or just simply done _something_, all her progress was ripped away from her, and she was somewhere worse than where she'd begun! "No! No, I can't!"

The three good fairies spoke all at once. "Aurora, his kingdom will—"

"—merge with ours and you—"

"—two will be so happy—"

"—at your advanced age you—"

No. No, no, _no_. "Wait! I don't want to—"

"—really don't have an option anymore—"

Aurora looked over at Maleficent, who still held some unidentified glowing non-object in her hands like a weapon, still watched the men brandishing their swords with cool resolve, as though to say, Dare you challenge me?

And here was Aurora, who wasn't even afforded the opportunity to dare.

"—and Phillip likes you, Aurora! He—"

"—is a good man and our kingdoms are going to—"

"Stop! Stop it right now!" Aurora shrieked. The good fairies stopped talking. Everyone stopped talking. The ballroom was dead silent, and Aurora was trembling. She looked at each of the good fairies, looked at the guilt-ridden faces of her parents, looked at the deceptively amiable face of Prince Phillip, who had taken her silence for acquiescence. She looked at Maleficent again, then back to the good fairies, and she swallowed audibly.

She felt as though she had been stricken, as though the wind had been knocked from her lungs. Aurora could no longer trust her parents or the good fairies to protect her interests. She stood alone, and she must in this instant find some other way to protect herself. She could not wield Maleficent's power, but perhaps she could take another leaf from her book...perhaps she could be frightening in her own way.

"If I am going to marry anyone," she said firmly, "I will marry Mistress Maleficent."

For the second time that evening, the entire ballroom took in a collective gasp. Aurora could feel Maleficent's eyes on her, and she could clearly see the eyes of everyone else in the room. The good fairies broke the silence with a strangled, nervous attempt at laughter.

"All right, dear..." Fauna began. "We do know this is a bit sudden, of course, but..."

"You see how you've shocked all these poor people with your strange jokes, Aurora?" Flora shook her head. "It almost..."

"It almost sounded like you were serious," Merryweather finished what Flora would not.

Aurora lifted her chin haughtily. "Suppose I was."

Dead silence. Utter stillness.

Flora cleared her throat. "You..." she swallowed. "You can't do that, Aurora."

Aurora folded her arms across her chest. "Then I won't marry."

She thought she had won. The slack-jawed silence seemed only to have intensified. She had shocked and horrified all of her suitors enough that none of them would vie for her hand against her will. But as seemed to be her fate, her plan rather abruptly turned sour. Suddenly the eyes turned from her to Maleficent. And Aurora realized that Maleficent had not heard her thought process. All she had heard was that Aurora, while shrieking and trembling like a madwoman, intended to marry her.

Aurora turned to look at Maleficent, too. She was of course looking back at Aurora, shoulders stiff, hands limp at her sides, expression strangely blank.

"You fiend!" cried someone in the crowd.

"What have you done to the princess?" demanded another.

"Deviant!"

"Filth!"

"Monster!"

Maleficent paid them no mind. She nodded slowly, and a subtle frown crossed her features. "I might have known," she said quietly. "Everyone wants something from me, princess. You aren't the first to think you could outwit me."

She took a step back, then another. Still the cries of _fiend, monster, freak, deviant, beast, demon_ underscored her speech, and though it was little above a whisper in volume, Maleficent's voice resonated above them all. "Know this, you poor, simple girl," she spat, and gradually, her lovely features contorted into a fearsome scowl. "You've made yourself a powerful enemy. You haven't seen the last of me."

"Beast!"

"Witch!"

"Fiend!"

"Stand back, you fools!" Maleficent raised her arms above her head in a graceful arc, and she dissolved into a burst of green fire.

Before Aurora could think, and long before anyone else could think to stop her, she ran out of the ballroom and headed for the stables. Behind her, she first heard nothing more than stunned silence, and the distant sound of some of the women who had begun to weep. Poor, foolish Princess Aurora. What kind of trouble had she gotten herself into? It was no wonder the king and queen locked her away.

A ballgown was not ideal for riding, but she would make do. Her horse knew her well, and now even knew the way. As they rode, Aurora tried to think of what exactly she intended to say. The way Maleficent had misunderstood her wasn't something Aurora had anticipated. It was as though she thought Aurora had planned the whole evening in an attempt to bring Maleficent trouble or discomfort. And though of course that seemed absurd to Aurora, she realized that the reason it didn't seem absurd to Maleficent was because that was the kind of thing Maleficent could do.

Aurora had considered each piece one at a time. She'd intended to invite Maleficent because she wanted someone to talk to who wasn't interested in marrying her. She'd gone to extra lengths to get Maleficent to agree because she was desperate for any sort of adventure at all. She'd announced to the kingdom that she intended to marry Maleficent or no one—and how ironic that Aurora should be the one announcing her unwanted intentions!—because she wanted to shock and frighten everyone into leaving her alone.

Now that she thought it through, it was certainly very selfish and rather stupid in its short-sightedness. But it was no grand design against Maleficent, to be certain.

By the time she'd reached the Forbidden Mountains, Aurora hadn't really worked out what she was going to say at all, but something told her she'd better start trying as quickly as possible. Maleficent's mind seemed to work far more quickly and in much larger leaps than did those of most people. If in the course of two seconds she had decided Aurora had been conspiring against her for weeks, more time for rumination on the matter could worsen her opinion.

"Maleficent!" she began to cry as she made the arduous trek up the winding, rocky mountain. She didn't know why—it wasn't as though Maleficent would offer her any assistance. Indeed, if anything, Aurora could much more easily imagine her coming out of her house just to watch her struggle.

She collapsed to her knees a stone's throw away from the front door, uncomfortably sweaty in the freezing night air, lungs burning from her shortness of breath. She half-walked, half-crawled the rest of the way, and stood on shaking legs to pound upon the door. "Maleficent!"

From nowhere and everywhere, from the mountains and the castle and the skies, came Maleficent's voice. "Insolent child! Begone!"

Aurora fell to her knees once more out of sheer terror, and she wrapped her arms around herself. It was very cold. If Maleficent didn't let her in, she'd be very ill by the time she made it back home. And then...well, she didn't want to think very much about what awaited her at home.

"P-please!" she cried. "Have mercy! It's very cold!"

Cruel laughter echoed throughout the mountains, chilled Aurora in ways she hadn't thought possible. "Mercy!" Maleficent cried. "Have mercy!"

Aurora felt like she might cry, but she pursed her lips and pushed herself to her feet once more. She knocked on the door again, insistently. "I'm not leaving!" she announced. She'd meant to sound stern, but her voice was high-pitched and tremulous. "Not until you talk to me!"

The echoes of Maleficent's laughter took several minutes to die out completely. To Aurora's immense surprise, the front door swung open. She teetered on unstable legs and looked up at Maleficent's scowling face.

"Well, if it isn't my betrothed."

"Maleficent, I really am sorry, I—"

"Let me be clear," said Maleficent. She gestured to the jagged rocks that served as the valleys between the mountains. "I could have thrown you off this mountain to your death."

"Oh." Aurora hadn't considered that. "Right." She wrapped her arms more tightly around herself and tried to calm her shivering, but to no avail.

Maleficent heaved a pointed sigh. "Foolish girl. Come inside before you freeze to death."

Aurora was caught off-guard, but much too cold to offer up any protest. She followed Maleficent inside, where it was exactly the same temperature as it was outside, if not colder. Maleficent handed her a blanket which did not seem to have come from anywhere, and when Aurora took too long staring at it, Maleficent sneered at her. "Something troubling you, princess?"

"Oh..." Aurora shook her head and took the blanket. It was inexplicably warm, and it made her hands tingle. How curious. "Thank you," she said, and when she wrapped the blanket around her shoulders, she felt compelled to speak the words again more genuinely. "Thank you."

Maleficent said nothing. She turned away from Aurora and proceeded ostensibly to stare at nothing. Aurora couldn't tell—it was too dark for her to see much of anything. A few faint flickers of candlelight burned here and there, but her eyes would not adjust any further than that.

"I am sorry for what I did," said Aurora quietly. "Truly. It was very selfish of me."

"What do I care?" Maleficent responded lightly.

"You certainly seemed to at the time," Aurora replied with a subtle frown.

"Perhaps someday, someone will use you as a means to an end," Maleficent replied. "You shall be queen, after all, if you are not deemed mad for your actions this evening, and therefore quite useful. Perhaps after this has happened a dozen times or more, you will begin to understand that it isn't so much that I care, because by now, I ought to have learned to expect nothing more."

Aurora tugged the blanket more tightly around her shoulders. "I didn't mean to, honestly," she said. "It wasn't all some big scheme, it was..." Again, she felt like she would cry. "I really did want you to come to the ball. I wanted to meet you, and I'm very glad I got to. You're the most fascinating person I've ever met, by far." Aurora shook her head. "What happened...that was just...I don't really think through my decisions very well most of the time," she finished lamely. "I'm sorry," she added again.

Maleficent did not move, nor did she speak. Aurora began to wonder whether she ought to just go and leave Maleficent in peace, but a small, nagging feeling in her stomach told her to stay. "Oh!" she exclaimed suddenly, and her hands flew to the clasp of her necklace. "I nearly forgot!" She hurried around Maleficent's statuesque form, for she was certain she could not convince her to turn around, and she held out the necklace.

Maleficent eyed it, and then Aurora, with the utmost suspicion. Aurora, who subconsciously sensed that Maleficent was surprised enough not to be immediately dangerous, reached out and took Maleficent's hand, and placed the charm of the necklace upon her palm.

"A gift," Aurora told her with a hopeful smile. "It's said you're an expert on dragons. I'll bet you've even seen them in person!"

Maleficent continued to divide her attention between the necklace and Aurora, expression neutral, black eyes glittering. "A gift," she echoed quietly.

Aurora began to grow nervous once more. "Is that all right?"

Maleficent's long, elegant fingers slowly closed around the dragon charm, and she nodded slowly. "Thank you," she said, but now she seemed to deliberately avoid looking at Aurora.

Aurora bit her lip and sighed heavily. She glanced over at the door, or at the vague area where she imagined the door must be, then back at Maleficent, who had not moved. She ought to go. She'd said what she came to say. Maleficent didn't seem to be angry with her anymore, at least, and not unlike this problem, the problem that awaited her at home could only grow worse with time.

Before she could fully convince herself to take a step, however, Maleficent asked her, "Do you suppose your plan will be successful?"

Aurora looked back at Maleficent hopefully, but Maleficent remained exactly the same, still staring down at the necklace in her hand. "Oh," she began, and melancholy overcame her like a blow to the stomach. "Probably not. If I'm lucky, Prince Phillip won't want to marry such a madwoman."

Maleficent let out a small half-chuckle. "And one who has so publicly declared her devotion to another."

Aurora smiled just a little, but her sadness only deepened. "Ridiculous, isn't it? I did to you exactly what they did to me, without even meaning to or realizing it."

Again, Maleficent turned away from her abruptly, slender hand clutching the necklace close to her chest. "Don't waste your sorrow. It makes no difference to me."

Something occurred to Aurora, and she felt rather mad for even thinking it, but given the minimal information available to her, it seemed the only thing that made sense. Admittedly, Aurora knew little of such matters. Her only experience with love was that kind of wide-eyed admiration some men seemed to harbour for her despite her obvious indifference to and discomfort around them, the kind which could evidently seal her fate without her knowledge, let alone her consent.

"I thought as much," Aurora said with a little shrug. "Otherwise I wouldn't have been so bold as to say what I did." She began to fidget with the edges of the blanket around her shoulders, which had somehow remained perfectly warm throughout the course of their conversation. "I hope you won't think me terribly uncouth if I tell you I should be only too pleased if you had any interest at all in courting me."

This caught Maleficent's attention. She looked at Aurora with wide eyes, then her expression relaxed into something like smugness—something Aurora could never find attractive on anyone else—and she chuckled quietly. "It's no wonder the king and queen see fit to seclude you, princess," she said. "You seem very inclined to court danger."

Aurora's first response was a huff of indignation. "Perhaps I wouldn't be if I weren't so often secluded from _everything_."

"Perhaps it's in your very nature, and you'd otherwise have fallen afoul of a nasty curse by now," Maleficent countered, with a quirk of one dramatically arched brow.

"My nature?" Aurora's hands balled into fists at her side, and she approached Maleficent. "You who were supposedly born Evil dare to tell me about my nature?"

Again, Maleficent's features took on that strange, fascinated quality as she loomed over Aurora. "You who are so small and so carefully sheltered dare to question my nature?"

Aurora shook her head and gritted her teeth. "Hurt me," she said. "I dare you."

Maleficent sneered. "Go home, princess, before you get yourself into more trouble."

"You're all talk!" Aurora replied with a small smirk and a haughty toss of her hair. She was fairly certain that this was both inaccurate and a highly dangerous accusation, but she was too worked up to care very much. There was a rather large part of Aurora that loved to get under people's skin, but it was no fun if it simply upset them, as was the case with most people Aurora encountered. She knew Maleficent would not back down like a wounded pup, and though of course that also meant she might bite back, Aurora felt in her current adrenaline-fueled state that it would be worth the trouble.

Something indescribable glinted in Maleficent's black eyes, and she drew even nearer than she had been already. Aurora's breath hitched audibly, but she stared right back up at Maleficent and waited for whatever she had wrought, trembling with anticipation.

"Am I?" Maleficent asked her quietly. She was so close that Aurora could feel the warmth of her breath against her own lips.

Aurora's eyelashes fluttered closed for just an instant. "You never responded," she said breathlessly.

"To what?"

"Do you think me uncouth?"

"Very."

Aurora opened her eyes. Maleficent's expression had switched from threatening to amused. "For wishing you'd court me?"

"Even more so." Maleficent's smile widened, and Aurora wasn't certain whether it was more beautiful or more frightening. In either case, she was left staring openly at Maleficent's lips. "You haven't asked the question to which you desire an answer, princess."

Aurora knew. She knew, because she wasn't certain exactly what it was she wanted to ask, and because she was afraid of the answers, whatever they might be. Which would be worse? A no or a yes?

Somewhere in the distance, Aurora could hear something almost like distant thunder. It distracted her only because she wanted it to, and she looked away from Maleficent at last.

"Horses," Maleficent said quietly.

"They're coming after me."

"I'd say that's a reasonable assumption."

Aurora began to wring her hands. What would happen? Certainly she had meant for something to happen, and certainly she'd anticipated a bit of a scolding for herself, but that was hardly unusual. She'd never wanted the night to turn out like this. She didn't want anyone to get hurt.

The idea that occurred to her next was very likely the worst one she'd had thus far, which was saying something. She wasn't certain what exactly compelled her to speak it aloud. Perhaps it was the dying remnants of that wild dream she'd had for how this evening might go. "Come back with me?"

"I beg your pardon?" Incredulous. Perhaps not furious, but not far off, either.

Also not a flat-out refusal. "Come back with me? To the ball?"

"Have you forgotten how well that ended the first time?" Aurora didn't quite dare to look at Maleficent, but she could imagine her exact facial expression all the same.

"Nobody wants trouble," said Aurora quietly, more to reassure herself than because she actually believed her words. "Not on Christmas Eve. And I've...well, I've made my position on the matter of marriage clear." She swallowed uncomfortably. "If they truly wish for a peaceful evening, they should have no trouble continuing with the night's festivities, without harassing the crown princess's honoured guest."

Maleficent was silent for a moment. "And fiancé," she added.

Aurora felt a dangerous flicker of hope ignite in her heart. She dared to steal a glance up at Maleficent. Neutral, haughty, but with just the tiniest hint of mischief in her eyes. Aurora dared to offer her a small smile.

"Is that a yes?"

Maleficent quirked one eyebrow. "To which question?"

* * *

Fortunately, for all their bravado, no one in the kingdom truly wanted trouble on Christmas Eve. Whether it was the Princess Aurora's impassioned speech on the matter that convinced them or Maleficent's terrifying glower, or perhaps the foreboding bushes of briars that quite suddenly lined their way back to the palace, who was really to say?

Aurora explained to her parents and the good fairies, with admirable level-headedness, that she would sooner prick her finger on a spindle and bleed to death than marry Prince Phillip, or any of the other perfectly pleasant gentlemen who had come to the ball for the sole purpose of courting her. She was even polite enough to keep her voice down, so that only five or six of them heard her. As it turned out, Phillip's father, Hubert, was an old friend of Aurora's father. The arrangement had been made in a bit of a drunken stupour, and though King Hubert was not particularly happy regarding the sobering outcome, he was loath to upset the beautiful and slightly volatile princess.

Once she had gotten her affairs in order, Aurora glanced around the crowded ballroom until she had located her honoured guest. Maleficent sat as far away from everyone else as possible. She was not doing anything in particular besides looking intimidating, and perhaps swaying subtly with the music, but no one so much as dared cast her a sideways glance.

Aurora considered Maleficent for a moment. She must be dreadfully lonely, to lead her life in such deliberate isolation. Then again, perhaps loneliness was the price she paid for her power and her freedom. Aurora had previously admired Maleficent because she could do all the things Aurora could not, but at the same time, there were many things Aurora could do that Maleficent could not. Aurora could go up to anyone in this ballroom and expect a pleasant conversation, a friendly smile, even a dance if she wished it. Maleficent could expect only wariness, if not outright disdain.

And really, it didn't matter whether she brought it on herself, or whether she had always been standoffish—cruel, even. No one deserved to be shut out.

Aurora wove through the people dancing, which was more difficult than it sounded, for they were very boisterous and a bit clumsy from the copious wine they had imbibed by this point in the evening. When the song drew to a close, Aurora tapped the conductor on the shoulder and asked him if he wouldn't mind playing a waltz in a song or two.

"But of course, Your Highness!" he replied jovially, and shuffled his music around.

"Oh, thank you!" she called over her shoulder as she hurried through the crowd in the opposite direction. Couples began to spin haphazardly around her, and a few bumped into her, but Aurora did not stop to hear their giggling apologies.

She came to a skittish sort of stop a fair distance away from her intended target. Maleficent gazed in the other direction, severe and serene all at once, and though Aurora was certain she was aware of her presence, Maleficent remained perfect still, but for that subtle swaying of her shoulders.

"Well," Aurora began, feeling suddenly awkward, despite her frenzy to arrive. "All's well that ends well, I suppose."

"I respectfully disagree," Maleficent replied.

Aurora sighed, equal parts exasperated and relieved. "Of course you do."

For this, Maleficent rewarded her with a subtle smirk. "Few hardships end when the conflict is resolved. They linger with us in ways we never could have imagined."

Aurora took a few tentative steps toward her. She understood suddenly why everyone was keeping a respectful distance. Maleficent sat—and the mere fact that she sat robbed her of much of that unnatural tallness that multiplied her intimidation—perfectly still, doing nothing in particular but to sway with the music, and still, she exuded a kind of quiet danger. Was this simply the way she had always been? Or had it developed over a long time? Aurora imagined it must be a bit of both.

"This wasn't any big deal..."

"Wasn't it?" Maleficent turned to look at Aurora at last, and Aurora felt even less sure-footed than she had before.

"Well," Aurora replied, in the general direction of her shoes. "Maybe it was. Maybe my father almost bargained away my freedom as part of a drinking game. Maybe I could have gotten myself in a great deal of trouble just because I was desperate for something different...something more or better or...I don't know."

She took another step closer to Maleficent, but her eyes remained steadfastly downcast. "It turned out...well..." she bit her lip, struggled to put her thoughts into words. "It turned out much worse...and much better than I imagined. And I guess..." she looked at Maleficent, took in those lovely, frightening, dramatic features, and she smiled. "I guess that's the joy of it, as far as I'm concerned."

Maleficent tilted her head and studied Aurora for a moment. Then she gestured to the spot next to her. "Do you intend to sit, or do you derive pleasure from looking down upon me?"

Aurora averted her eyes again, and a nervous smile played at her lips. "Actually," she began quietly, before she could think better of it, "I wondered if you might do me the honour of granting me a dance?" She met Maleficent's eyes hopefully, and she watched them as they glittered with bewilderment, then suspicion, then just the tiniest hint of interest.

"I don't dance," she replied.

"Ever?" Aurora prodded.

"Much."

Aurora raised one eyebrow. "I see. And you deem me unworthy?" Her tone was teasing, but the question was real.

"Naturally," Maleficent countered easily, "in addition to exceedingly picky, old and decrepit, and terribly uncouth."

Aurora responded with a small hmph. "Would you like me to come up with some adjectives to describe you?"

"I expect you'd be happier if you didn't," Maleficent replied crisply.

The dramatic toss of Aurora's hair was a thinly-veiled attempt to stall for time. What occurred to her was surprisingly useful. "The good fairies would be utterly scandalized," she offered casually.

"I'm listening."

"Well, you did only accept my invitation because you wanted to ruffle their feathers, didn't you?" Which was rather silly of her, really, because the three good fairies were so easy to ruffle that Aurora didn't even find it sporting.

"And you expect you'll play upon my distaste for them a second time?"

"That," Aurora met her eyes, "and I'm hoping maybe you secretly want to dance, just a little."

Maleficent regarded her coolly for a moment, and then the corners of her lips quirked up into a little smile. She stood slowly and offered Aurora her hand. "All's well that ends well, I suppose," she said quietly.

Aurora's laughter took her by surprise. She grabbed Maleficent's hand and all but dragged her onto the dance floor, just as the first strains of her very favourite waltz began to sound.

She supposed it oughtn't to have surprised her that Maleficent was a good dancer. She moved with the same natural grace Aurora had been gifted by fairies at her christening, and she was in perfect control of her limbs for someone so impossibly lanky. She led with a decisiveness befitting of her character, and that same strength that made her intimidating also made her a very reliable dance partner.

The hush that fell over the room as began was unnerving. The looks of concern from Aurora's parents before they turned in to whisper to one another were embarrassing. The looks of shock, horror, and disgust upon the three good fairies' faces were perhaps almost as enjoyable to Aurora as they were to Maleficent. Aurora even went so far as to laugh when she first saw them. Perhaps she would feel a bit guilty about this eventually, but she was still rather sore about the previous events of the evening, and at the moment, there wasn't much room in her heart for mercy or understanding.

"You were correct," said Maleficent. "They are sufficiently scandalized."

Aurora made a face. "Is that the only reason you agreed to dance with me?"

"No," Maleficent replied. "But it's the excuse I like best."

They did not leave the floor after one song, or even two. Aurora was restless and agile by design, and she usually tired out her dance partners long before she even needed a rest, but Maleficent did not even seem short of breath. After another few dances, it was Aurora who at last gave in, and Maleficent looked so unendurably (and, bizarrely, irresistibly) self-satisfied that Aurora insisted they go for a walk in the meantime.

"Unless you're secretly a fairy, I see no reason why you're so determined not to experience fatigue."

"Only because you're just bursting at the seams to mock me."

"I haven't said a word," Maleficent replied lightly.

"You don't have to!" said Aurora. "You _exude_ mockery."

"Suddenly so quick to think ill of my intentions."

Aurora let out a small hmm, which was almost amusement, but with too much confusion mixed in. "I can't help but flip-flop a bit on the issue," she said. "You're not particularly easy to pin down, in case you hadn't realized."

Maleficent chuckled, and Aurora hadn't realized until then how a sound could be both chilling and entrancing. "And to think," said Maleficent, "you were going to marry me before you realized it."

Aurora stopped and turned on her abruptly, and Maleficent gazed down at her with cool resolve, forever a silent challenge. "Suppose the evening had gone differently," Aurora began slowly. Her brow furrowed. She knew what she wanted to ask—indeed, felt that she must know the answer, that she might promptly cease making a fool of herself if need be—yet, she was reluctant to crush her own spirit. "If I weren't quite so reckless and foolhardy, might you have taken a fancy to me?"

The change in Maleficent's expression was so subtle it was almost unreadable. She..softened, somehow. Those sharp angles and dramatic arches that composed her face were suddenly not quite so harsh as they had been a moment earlier, and the smile that crossed her lips then did not seem to mock or to indicate cruel amusement.

Long, graceful fingers lightly touched the place where Aurora's hair met her temple, then examined one of the tendrils that fell there. "On the contrary," she said, and caressed the side of Aurora's face, "were you very different, I think I shouldn't fancy you half as much."

Aurora inhaled sharply—she couldn't help herself, nor could she look away from those sparkling black eyes as they drew ever nearer. She did not look away, in fact, until the last possible second, when her eyes fluttered closed of their own accord, and her entire body experienced a singular thrill in response to the feeling of Maleficent's lips against hers.

As quickly as it had begun, it was over, and Aurora was left weak in the knees, lungs burning from the cold air, eyes still half-closed. Her hands rested on Maleficent's arms to steady herself, and her mind was both reeling and eerily still, all at once.

Inside, the music changed—another waltz, this one a bit more boisterous than Aurora's favourite, but also richer in texture. "Have you caught your breath, princess?"

"Hmm?" Aurora could feel Maleficent's words against her lips. She still hadn't quite opened her eyes. "Oh." She blinked once, twice, and steadied herself on her feet as she reoriented herself to the world around her. "Yes."

"Well, in that event," Maleficent took a few steps back and offered Aurora a sweeping curtsey, "may I have this dance?"

Aurora blinked twice more, smiled rather giddily, and returned the curtsey. "Why, my lady, I would be delighted," she replied, and together, they took to the ballroom once more.

When they reentered, Aurora felt the stares and she heard that telling rush of whispers, but in this moment, she felt she almost understood what Maleficent had told her earlier in the evening. She held her head a bit higher, grasped Maleficent's hand a bit tighter, and relished what felt remarkably like triumph.

They danced for far too long. Aurora hardly felt her muscles begin to tighten or her feet begin to ache, and she hardly noticed the other guests beginning to drift away, or else to lean back a bit too far in their chairs and fall asleep, still clutching their empty goblets, mouths agape and snoring. When at last Aurora could no longer contain her yawning, she walked Maleficent all the way to the edge of the palace grounds, even though of course Maleficent wasn't going to walk or ride home. Maleficent did not protest.

"I can't tell you how glad I am that you decided to come," said Aurora. She was still holding onto the fabric of Maleficent's sleeve, reluctant to let her go.

Maleficent took Aurora's hand and kissed it lightly. "Well," she said, and even at this very late hour, her eyes shone with perfect clarity of mind. "Thank you for the invitation."

She made to turn away, but still, Aurora could not quite bring herself to let go. "Will I see you again?"

Maleficent glanced over her shoulder, brow arched, lips curled in amusement. She'd expected Aurora to stop her, or else her mind just worked that quickly. "I should hope so. We are to be married, after all."

And with that, Maleficent was gone, and Aurora was left with nothing to do but to jump back from the burst of green flame she left in her wake.

Many, many years later, Aurora inherited the throne, and reigned supreme as Queen of the Kingdom of the Dawn. She didn't marry until many years after that. The reasons for this were a source of abundant speculation. Despite her advanced age, the queen showed no interest in the never-ending stream of suitors who all but threw themselves at her feet. Rumours began to circulate that she had some sort of forbidden romance, or that she preferred the company of other women.

The queen's fiercest supporters brazenly insisted that this was nothing more than vicious speculation. The queen cared for no man above her country, and that was to be admired above all else. In fact, they should think less of her if ever she took a husband.

The truth was very likely much simpler than any of that. Aurora had insisted years ago that if she was to marry at all, she would marry the wicked fairy Maleficent. Many people had taken this as an amusing exaggeration of her unwillingness to marry at all, and chief among these interpreters was Maleficent, herself. Despite a near-constant stream of acerbic comments on the matter of their betrothal, each of them, for an expanse of time that was vastly disproportionate to the magnitude of the misunderstanding, quite simply believed that the other was speaking facetiously.

"Why didn't you ever tell me?" Aurora had asked Maleficent, when at last the truth had been revealed.

She ought to have anticipated the answer, just as soon as she saw that smug little grin tugging at the corners of Maleficent's ruby red lips. But she didn't, and before the words had fully left those lovely lips, Aurora groaned in vehement (if good-natured) protest.

"You never asked."


End file.
